The
Israeli policy of early release from jail for hardened criminals -- in
exchange for military service in the Occupied Territories -- coupled with
the racist attitudes embedded in Israeli army culture encourages the cycle
of violence, which ensures that prospects for peace in Palestine remain
remote.

Jenin, a trading centre on
the northern fringe of the West Bank, is a town of wasted hopes -– the
debris of destruction visible on every corner. The heavy rain of the past
few days has left streets, ripped up by Israeli tanks, ankle deep in mud and
potholes filled with water. A sullen sky sits above the houses like a shroud
and drops of rainwater drip silently from lemons and tangerines dangling
defiantly in the trees. People’s faces, aged beyond their years by decades
of occupation and oppression, look tired and ashen.

I spent last night in a
house near the mosque in the refugee camp adjacent to the town. The family,
whose home it is, has lost one close relative from three different
generations to the guns of Israeli soldiers –- a grandfather carrying a bag
of flour shot on his way to market, a father torn apart by a hail of bullets
in front of his family as he stepped from his house hands above his head,
and the eldest daughter struck in the chest by a sniper’s round as she stood
in the window of her home. Eleven years old, she bled to death on the living
room floor.

The disproportionate
violence visited on Jenin since the Intifada began has, if anything, made
the townspeople more not less defiant. They know they have no escape from
suffering and no alternative but to continue with the struggle. Although
young men with guns can still be seen slipping from hiding place to hiding
place within the confines of the town, the fight has now gone underground.
The days of open confrontation with Israeli soldiers have passed and in the
future, while street traders and coffee salesmen hawk their wares, terror
will also been on offer.

So much misery and death
and all because of a 19th century colonial concept for an exclusive Jewish
state. A concept already well beyond its sell-by date when conceived, it has
become an anachronism on a catastrophic scale. In an increasingly inclusive
world there is no room for such an aberration. Yet after fifty years of
oppression Israel still fails to grasp this fact, as do those British
politicians who talk blandly of "conflict resolution" and "land for peace"
rather than deal with the problem of Zionism itself. In 2004 how is it
possible that Britain and the United States permit Israel to construct an
apartheid wall, which will divide people from their land, relative from
relative and create Palestinian ghettos on a vast scale? Do these countries’
leaders seriously believe that this hideous monument to American strategic
interests will bring peace and security to Israel? Can they be that naïve?
And are they really not able to appreciate just how enticing the water
resources and fertile fields of the West Bank are to Israelis -– that what
Israel is embarked upon is nothing less than a land grab.

A short walk to the west of
Jenin is the village of Burqeen. A narrow road snakes its way from the
refugee camp between gnarled and wrinkled olive trees to a 6th century, dome
roofed church standing at the centre of the community -- a timely reminder
that both communities are situated in the heart of the Holy Land. Sandwiched
between Nazareth and Jerusalem, Burqeen church encompasses the grotto where
Jesus healed ten lepers while making his way from Galilee to Samaria (Luke
chapter 17, verse 11 of the Bible) and as I stood in the little churchyard
looking back towards Jenin and Nazareth, I could not help but wonder how it
is that Christians around the globe remain silent in the face of so much
torment and destruction in the land where Christianity began.

Nick Pretzlik is a semi-retired businessman
living in London, England. He travels frequently to the Middle East. He can
be reached at:
upretzlik@yahoo.co.uk